You darlin- you are sitting at the bar. Pretending you are okay.
Your finger is bleeding.
Deep cut.
Only four chances left.
And you can't help crying.
Yet keeping it all in.
Postpone.

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The cat licks up blood
from the pristine floor.
I sit in the sun
but my brain is still buzzing
high.
Nothing Breeze comes in
through the curtain. And
my eyes are still swollen from
last night.
Apathy sits here
holding my hand.
We bite our cheeks,
draw blood,
and hope the world will end
today.

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My words
Like roses sprouting from a
Cracked city
Tore into the world

And
Perhaps my heart beat one
With the Earth
When Earth fell through my
Fingers

But I saw you
And the puzzle all around you
And I saw that not one piece
Would fit one other piece

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Pavement,
Pristine in the lamplight
And glowing with mist,
Does not speak
Reconcile,
Does not offer false hope.
You may lick the long streets
With
A patience so
Calm and
So fierce;
Collect the moisture and mist.
Yes there are things that
They're still
Quite ashamed of.
But knowledge that these
Promises
Will be gone in the morning-
It holds us.
Quiet streets.
So early, so late.
Do they know that it's springtime?
Sick to the stomach
With cold
With dread.
The promise will be broken
By morning.

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it is punishment.

loud and clear-

it is my punishment.

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I sit here.

In this chair.

It is my birthday.

I suppose it is rude of me

to want to die.

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Sometimes I forget to be sad.

Other times I forget that I am a human.

Then, sometimes...

Sometimes my feelings consume me.

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in the courtyard.

after the war.

when the rain comes down-

dizzy with the scent of flowers.

but without the breath of life.

to capture just one moment.

what a goal.

what a dream.

i dream the dream of night.

of glory.

in the courtyard.

after the war.

where not one thought is conscious.